


(Almost) Completely Cliche

by sunflowersailor



Series: To Begin Anew [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Winky Face, With A Twist, originally for sylvix week, pls read the authors note at beginning thx lov you, yes babes its a coffee shop au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:20:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26862034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflowersailor/pseuds/sunflowersailor
Summary: The flirty barista won’t stop trying to get Felix’s attention every time he comes into the coffee shop. Felix feels like his life is turning into a terrible fanfiction.Except, there’s a twist to this fanfiction he would never see coming in a million years.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Sylvain Jose Gautier, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: To Begin Anew [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1959640
Comments: 14
Kudos: 85





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello friends and gamers i have a quick note abt this: this was originally supposed to be for sylvix week for the prompt 'second chances' but now im turning it into its own series bc i got a bunch of ideas for this universe. that being said, if you havent read the fic i did for day 4 (which is part 3 of my sylvix week series) i highly recommend you do. you dont have to tho bc ik angst isnt everyones cup of tea and itll still make sense if you havent read it. for those of you who did read it tho..... consider this fic a little apology.

Felix is a very simple man with simple needs.

Not that he considers being simple an insult, though. He’s embraced it as a parent would lovingly embrace their child, so much so that his daily routine only involves four things: get a coffee, go to class, go to the gym, go home. It’s straightforward, entails no unnecessary distractions, and it’s helped him keep a rock solid grip on reality for the three years he’s been stuck in the punishment that is university. Going through the motions is all he needs to get through each day, and he doesn’t care that Annette finds his routine ‘boring’ no matter how many times she pesters him to ‘get a new hobby’ (“What’s wrong with going to the gym every day?” he’d asked once, only to receive a sad shake of the head and a sympathetic “Oh, Felix.”) or ‘find a new friend’ (he has two of them, who else does he need?). 

Actually, he did give into her pestering once. It ended up with him going (read: being dragged) to a bar with music that made his ears ring until morning and lights that made him want to tear his corneas out. That experience was enough to convince him that his ‘boring’ routine was  _ perfectly fine, thank you _ .

This morning, the routine starts out the same. The bell on the oak door chimes cheerfully as Felix uncheerfully shuffles his way into the cozy cafe on campus—past a couple of students who are eagerly stacking erasers on a sleeping man with hair the color of an evergreen tree, past all of the exhausted looking business men with eyebrows furrowed at their laptop screens—and meanders straight into the line. 

He’ll order what he always orders—a regular coffee, completely plain and bitter (“Just like you!” he hears Annette chirp)—as per his routine. One time Annette convinced him to order a strange tea he’d never heard of before, something that looked like sludge and smelled way too sweet for his liking. It wasn’t bad… but it wasn’t  _ good _ either, which was enough to convince him (again) that doing the same thing every day was completely fine. Why she even feels the need to meddle in his life is beyond him. 

Well, okay, it isn’t completely beyond him.  _ Maybe _ he’d admitted one time that there was something he felt was missing. But it was in a moment of weakness, when he’d had a little too much to drink and spent a little too much time reflecting while questioning what the point of higher education even was. The thought had been fleeting anyway, and he didn’t want to dwell on it lest it actually evolved into something he couldn’t control.

“I can take the next guest in line!”

The way too chipper voice snaps him out of his thoughts, and he jerks his head towards the cashier. They lock eyes, and-

And for some reason, there’s a deep ache that takes root in his chest.

The cashier is tall, but not lanky—clearly there’s been some work put into his appearance from the way his broad chest fills in his hoodie. His hair is the color of a maple tree in Autumn, right before the leaves fall to the ground. His honey glazed brown eyes are warm—comforting, for reasons he can’t explain—and a small smattering of freckles paints his face. If Felix were in a fanfiction (yikes, when had his thinking gone down that road?) he would compare the freckles to constellations in the night sky. And because Felix is hopelessly gay, he can’t help but think of how attractive the rest of his body must be too.

Or, that’s where his thoughts would normally wander, anyway.

In truth, there’s something about the other that nags at him, picks and pulls at his brain matter relentlessly. When he steps up to the counter and gets a closer look, the aching feeling in his chest blooms, and his heart speeds up when he’s hit with the realization that he can actually put a name to what this feeling is.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” Felix blurts out at the same time the cashier says “Hey there! What can I get started for ya?”

A startled look passes over his features for a brief moment, then is quickly replaced with mirth as he lets out a chuckle. Felix wants his hoodie to swallow him whole.

“No, I don’t think we’ve ever met before. Besides,” he says, suddenly dropping his voice low, bordering on sultry. “I’d definitely remember a cute face like yours.”

Not only does he want his hoodie to swallow him whole, Felix hopes that it will erase him from existence, like a black hole swallowing a poor, unsuspecting space rock. But dramatic similes aside, Felix feels his face burn as he realizes that the cashier has definitely just hit on him, and subsequently, has just set in motion the terrible fanfiction scenario he was imagining moments prior. A coffee shop AU, if he remembers Bernadetta’s ramblings correctly, is what this is close to becoming.

“Just get me a regular coffee,” Felix mumbles as he struggles to pull his card out of his wallet. Hardly more than a minute has passed, and he’s already unsure of how many more minutes of this conversation he can handle before he inevitably implodes.

Again, the cashier only laughs—which definitely  _ does not _ sound like music to Felix’s ears—and punches in his order. “You got it.”

Seeing as how he’s busy undergoing a small crisis, Felix is hardly aware of what’s going on when he eyes the cashier reaching for a pen to write something on his receipt. His stomach nearly drops to the floor when he realizes the man is writing a series of numbers on the paper. These numbers, or rather,  _ his phone number _ , is handed to Felix with a wink that makes his heart flip inside his chest.

So this… this really is just going to keep progressing like a fictional story then.

He definitely does not make a mental note to ask Bernadetta about how these types of fanfictions usually end, mechanically pivots away without any type of thanks, and nearly speedwalks to the waiting area where a girl with long, brown hair and emerald eyes has the audacity to giggle at him while eyeing the cursed paper in his hand. 

“I’ve seen him flirt before, but I’ve never seen him actually hand anyone his number. You must be somebody really special to him.”

And Felix wants to be annoyed at her statement, he really does. He wants to hate the fact that this guy apparently just hands his heart out with no rhyme or reason, wants to hate himself for even caring that much about something that shouldn’t even affect his life. Because it really shouldn’t. He has _ literally _ just met him. 

But the feeling from before, when he’d gazed into his eyes for the first time, is back again full force. And again, Felix feels unease creep into his senses at the tightness in his chest.

How can someone who he’s never met before have such an intense feeling of familiarity attached to them? How can a complete stranger catch him off guard with nothing more than a cheesy pick up line and a wink? He’s attractive, but for heaven’s sake it shouldn’t take a stupid smile to get Felix to crack (maybe he’s gayer than he realized).

“Coffee for Felix!”

His name pierces his ears and snaps him out of his disoriented thoughts. His plan to quickly make his way to the counter and pick up his drink with no further interactions is foiled as the cashier is standing there, drink in hand, smile on face. Another wink is thrown his way, which is officially when it stops being charming and starts to get annoying ( _ it was already annoying _ is the thought that he drags kicking and screaming to the forefront of his mind because heaven forbid he think it was anything but).

This man must be out to get him. That must be it, so Felix makes the decision right then and there that he isn’t going to let him get in his head. He is not going to let this one-time incident distract him from his studies. He is going to walk out of the cafe, go to his lectures, work out, and then go straight home, just like he always has. It’s worked for three years, and he intends to keep going with it until he graduates. The cashier  _ will not _ get into his head.

With this new resolve, Felix leaves the shop, makes it two steps out of the doorway, and immediately freezes in place.

Since when had he told the other his name?

+++

The rest of the week goes by without incident.

Actually, that’s a complete lie.

Over the next three days, the tall, infuriatingly handsome cashier is there again, ready to make Felix’s world collapse in on itself with a charming smile and words that sound as sweet as the pastries Annette enjoys.

But it doesn’t end there, because that would be too easy and doesn’t follow the rules of fanfiction, as he’d learned from Bernadetta. Felix’s life gets infinitely more difficult each time he goes in because the other always has a terrible pick up line ready for him, that he says  _ out loud _ . In a _ public setting _ . Where others  _ can hear _ .

And because whatever deity is out there apparently revels in his misery, the cashier is there to greet him today as well, which means it’s now been an entire week since Felix’s life has been ruined. 

Felix was hoping today might be different, that maybe he’d greet him like a normal person for once. But the second the other had flashed him a bright, incandescent grin, that notion had flown straight out the window.

Well, at the very least one thing about today is different. This time, he stops Felix just before giving him his drink and asks if he needs him to rewrite his number, since Felix hadn’t texted him the entire week.

Of course Felix hadn’t texted him. What would he even say? ‘Hey could you quit your job so I never have to talk to you and think about how your flirting gives me an arrhythmia?’

Yeah, because that would go over so well.

Instead, Felix responds with, “How do you know my name?”

The man blinks once and shuts his mouth, and Felix basks in the sweet silence. Finally, he’s gotten him. Finally, he’ll get to see  _ him _ be the one who is flustered for once. Nevermind the fact that he really should be concerned as to how he just  _ knows _ his name, Felix just wants to see this guy squirm.

Of course, that’s what he wants. But fate is a cruel mistress, and when a god awful smirk that looks like it belongs on a fox creeps it’s way onto the cashier’s face, Felix curses himself for getting his hopes up.

“Saw it on your card, babe.”

Felix has just about had it up to here with this bastard. 

It’s only been a week since he’s met the other, and it already feels like he’s known him for far too long with how comfortable the cashier’s gotten with him. And the most loathsome part of it all, the part that pisses Felix off more than he’d ever care to admit—is he’s actually gotten used to his presence as well, stupid flirting aside.

“If I text you, will you tone it down while I’m trying to order?” he practically hisses at him. Felix curses his traitorous heart for speeding up when the cashier visibly perks up at his offer.

“You’ll really do it?”

It’s strange, Felix thinks, just how much hope colors his voice when he asks. It’s almost as if the other really has been waiting for him to text him this entire time, and giving him his number wasn’t just some elaborate prank tailor made to make Felix anxious. Felix—who is a total stranger—apparently means enough to him that he can drop his flirty facade and be genuinely excited about the prospect of having a normal conversation.

Felix knows this should be suspicious. There should be a million red flags popping up right now at how much attention he’s being given. He’s seen a handful of those late night murder mystery documentaries, and his father imparted the wisdom of stranger danger onto him before he knew just how evil people could really be. A guy he only met a week ago giving him his number, as well as way too much attention, is the type of person anyone should be wary of.

And yet, for some godforsaken reason, Felix has never felt like he could trust someone so much in his life, even with zero evidence to support the feeling. Even his brother, his own kin by blood, had taken him more time to warm up to than this total stranger. And the part of Felix that hasn’t stopped nagging at him ever since he met the other only continues to urge him on, to find out why this man is special enough to bring about a sense of familiarity no other human has.

But he can’t let gut feelings be his guide. If he did, Felix would wind up on the late night news, and in a casket not long after. He really shouldn’t say yes. 

“I will actually do it,” Felix practically sighs. “But you better keep your end of the deal too,” he tacks on at the other’s elated look.

“Don’t you worry about that, Fe, you can totally trust me!”

Felix pointedly ignores the nickname—which definitely does not inspire any sort of warm feelings at all—and pays for his drink. 

This decision is definitely going to haunt him.

When Felix steps out of the cafe this time, he stops to briefly rummage around his backpack. His hand brushes past a hardcover textbook and the cold steel of his laptop before he finally locates the crumpled up receipt and fishes it out from the depths of his bag. Upon opening the receipt, he’s relieved to find that the number hasn’t faded over the past week, lest he has to go back in and ask again. He also finds that the man had apparently left his name as well.  _ Sylvain  _ is what it says, along with a winky face that makes him gag. 

Seeing the name once again sparks an inkling of familiarity for what feels like the millionth time even though it’s probably only been three times total. Or was it four? Did it even matter?

Felix only shakes his head, willing himself to focus on the task at hand, and grabs out his phone to put the number in. Every tap on the screen solidifies the fact that this is  _ real.  _ Felix really is about to let a random person into his life, and not in the way he’d done it with Annette and Bernadetta, where there were proper introductions. This person is a cyclone, barreling his way right past formalities and right into the forefront of Felix’s thoughts, no introductions needed.

And somehow, despite every risk ever being involved, Felix is completely okay with it.

+++

Texting Sylvain is not as bad as Felix anticipates.

Sylvain uses a horrendous amount of emojis and shortens just about every word he can, but Felix finds he does just fine interpreting whatever he’s saying anyway, even if it feels like a chore to do so. It barely takes him a day before he’s sending Felix memes as well, which makes him want to groan loudly with each notification.

It’s stupid. So very stupid.

“Wow, Felix! I don’t think I’ve seen you ever look so excited to get a text in my life! Who is it?”

It’s still stupid, he tries to convince himself as he quickly looks away from Annette and prays to every force of nature out there that his face isn’t betraying him as it’s been doing everytime he finds himself fighting an idiotic smile when Sylvain’s name pops up on screen.

“I met someone recently,” he answers, tone clipped as to not reveal too much. 

Felix doesn’t even have to glance at Annette’s face to see her expression, because he already knows exactly what it looks like. The sun’s rays hardly hold a candle to the glow of an excited Annette. Her pale blue eyes shine so brightly it’s hard for him to look directly at her (hence why he’s still turned away), and her smile splits her face so wide he wonders if it’ll crack right in half.

“Felix Hugo Fraldarius, you met someone and didn’t tell  _ me _ ?” she practically squeals, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him.

Felix, who definitely has his shit together and isn’t struggling internally with anything, finally turns toward her and fidgets with his phone. “It was a complete accident, I only agreed to keep talking with him so he wouldn’t flirt so much at the cafe.”

The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them, and the second they leave, he wants to put them all back in and never open his mouth again. Zip it shut, then cover the zipper with tape, then cover the tape with bricks and cement. Annette beams at him so hard he fears he might have to wear sunscreen, lest he get UV damage from her grin.

It’s been a long time since Felix has openly shown interest in anyone. It’s been even longer since that interest was actually returned. 

Annette would know better than anyone, considering she was the one on the receiving end of his interest. She’d liked him well enough, but in the end, her tastes lied more in women than men. Felix found out after the one time he’d gone out and spent more time looking at the handsome bartender than the girl who was flirting with him that he and Annette were more alike than he’d realized.

Now, instead of being the love interest, Annette’s become the person he goes to talk about love interests.

...Not that this was even a love interest in the first place.

He’s a cute guy. He’s shown interest in Felix. Felix doesn’t know a single thing about him. 

But… there’s a possibility he’s open to the idea.

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” Felix says, crossing his arms. The grin unfortunately doesn’t dissipate from Annette’s face. “I still have to get to know him. I only just learned his name anyway.” 

Annette’s grin slowly morphs into a devious smirk. Felix feels like he’s being observed under a microscope by a mad scientist. “What’s his name?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Oh c’mon Felix, you just said you want to know more about him! So we’re gonna stalk him on social media!”

Felix hates this idea. He wants to take this idea and throw it in the trash, then never think about Sylvain’s gorgeous jawline again. 

But he knows Annette. Annette is studious, Annette is persistent, and she’s determined. This combination of traits will ensure that not only will she go through with the idea, but Felix will be seeing a lot more of Sylvain than just his jawline.

And of course he wants that. He’s just… nervous. Nervous about… what exactly? That this guy could actually be a good fit for a misfit like him? That this guy could actually turn his whole world upside down, could break him out of the comfort zone he’s already been chipping away at for the past week already? Not to mention, there’s still the allure of the familiarity he feels. Felix feels like a moth being drawn to a flame, daring to get close just for the tiniest chance he’ll finally understand why the other feels like a cozy blanket on a rainy day.

Okay, so maybe that metaphor was a little over the top. He’s never been good with English, in his defense.

“Felix, you know I’m only trying to help you, right?” Annette says placing a hand on his arm, and damn him if the gentleness in her voice doesn’t get him every single time.

He lets out a sigh. He  _ really _ is doing this. “His name is Sylvain. He didn’t write his last name on the receipt so I can’t give you any more than that.”

Something in Annette’s eyes flash. Recognition, perhaps? “He doesn’t happen to have red hair and brown eyes, does he?”

Felix straightens up. “You know him?”

“Yeah, but,” she responds, scrunching her face in concentration. “This is gonna sound really strange, but I honestly can’t remember where I know him from.”

Before Felix can tell Annette that he more or less shares the same feeling, she suddenly perks up as if she’s had a divine revelation. “Wait!” she yells, startling Felix as she quickly types something into her phone, pumping a fist in the air as she narrowly avoids hitting him in the nose in an attempt to show him whatever’s on screen.

The screen is filled with a social media profile, his to be exact. His profile picture is of him, doing that wink that Felix has thought about more times than he cares to admit, and under it, is his name.

_ Sylvain Jose Gautier _ . Three words that carry the strangest nostalgia he’s ever felt.

“He was in my geography class!” Annette says, taking the screen away and tapping on it a few more times. “He helped me review for the midterm and the final, and I’ve never done better on any other test in my life.”

So he’s smart. He’s smart, and Felix is screwed. Because not only is he smart, he’s attractive—two things that win Felix over easily. Maybe Felix just needs to get higher standards.

“Oh my gosh Felix, look at this!” Annette chirps as she shows him the screen again. “He has a horse!”

This time, the picture she shows him is of Sylvain standing by stables, with a horse the color of midnight standing tall by his side. One of his hands rests on the neck of the beast, the other placed on his hip, which is framed by his skin tight maroon jeans. 

But what catches Felix’s eye the most is not his nicely sculpted thighs, or his large arms—although those don’t go unnoticed either. What really catches his eye is Sylvain’s smile. 

At the cafe, Sylvain’s smile when he calls out orders to customers seems genuine, playful even. He’ll throw in a singsong tone every now and again to add to the charm, but in the end it doesn’t fool Felix, even if everyone else is. Felix sees the pinched corners, sees how his eyes are nearly completely dull, not even shining when he hands the drink over to whatever lady is swooning over him at that moment. 

But the smile in the photo is different. It’s noticeably relaxed, as if Sylvain had been laughing before the photo was taken. His eyes are crinkled at the corners, and the dullness that’s usually present is replaced by a warm glow. Coupled with the sunlight that illuminates his face, he looks radiant (as much as that word makes Felix cringe to say), bathed in the glow of happiness.

Felix could say it’s his first time seeing his genuine smile, but he knows that’s a lie. And the truth makes him want to bury his face in his hands and scream for a concerningly long time. Because the truth is, he has seen this smile. It’s the smile he sees every day when Sylvain greets him at the register. It’s the smile he sees when Sylvain makes small talk with him, when he laughs at Felix’s curt replies as if it’s the best thing he’s heard in his life, when he hands him his drink and waves him goodbye.

He’s smart, he’s attractive, and he looks at Felix like he’s the only person in the world. And Felix is so, so,  _ so screwed. _

It’s even worse when it dawns on him that he’s just now reached the part in any fanfiction where the helpless romantic goes to their enthusiastic friend to find out more about the stranger that’s taken an interest in them. Would his life just get more cliche from this point forward? And why was he actually looking forward to finding out? There must be something wrong with him.

“Okay, I think I found out everything I could!” Annette informs him with a clap of her hands, interrupting his internal crisis.

“And?”

“He’s a photography major, he’s a fan of the Mittlefrank opera, and he likes to play chess. He seems like a good guy, Felix.”

The illusion of Sylvain being a business major stuck in a frat house is broken, much to Felix’s relief. “I… yeah, he does,” Felix admits.

Annette beams at him again. “So keep talking to him. Even if you don’t fall in love, at least keep him as a friend, okay, Felix?”

Felix thinks he can do that. Sylvain doesn’t seem like a bad guy, after all. Flirty and annoying? Sure, a little bit. But he never goes too far. Hell, he's even asked about boundaries more than once, which is more than any other person Felix has ever met. And now that he knows more about him, he could be a good friend to keep around. 

And… maybe he  _ can _ be more than that, if Felix ever gets brave enough.

“I will. Thanks, Annette.”

Annette shoots him a thumbs up. “Always happy to help.”


	2. Chapter 2

The next three weeks pass with the ease of a garden snake slipping through the grass undetected.

The shrill chime of the bell used to be the sole greeting Felix received when he’d entered, but now Sylvain’s gleeful “Hi Felix!” is another sound he’s beginning to get accustomed to hearing. It’s… strange. Strange, but not unwelcome. 

That’s not the only thing that’s changed either. Now the morning part of the routine has two amendments: have a quiet chat with Sylvain, and leave with a warm feeling nestled in his chest. 

Luckily, Sylvain stays true to his word and doesn’t hit Felix with terrible one liners every time he sees him. Instead, the conversations they share range from what classes they’ve decided to take (Felix just about dies when he nearly lets it slip he knows about Sylvain’s photography) to weekend plans. Felix had told (correction: had been cornered into telling) Annette about these little talks at one point, which had the unfortunate side effect of her calling Sylvain “the boyfriend” to his absolute mortification. Of course he knew she was just teasing, but it sure didn’t stop his heart from acting like an angry hornet’s nest when she’d said it.

There were also the few times after he’d left where he’d spent the rest of the morning wracking his brains trying to remember if he’d ever met Sylvain at some point in his life, since he felt that could help unearth the answer to his familiarity. He’d traversed through his childhood memories while suffering through the 45 minute long line at the bank, and (cringed through) his middle school years while eating lunch before he realized that it was pointless to try, so that aspect hadn’t become a permanent fixture in his daily life.

Not that it’s that big of a deal, though. He’s already tucked a note in between the creases of his brain to figure all of that out at a later date, when he isn’t drowning in projects. Right now getting to know more about Sylvain is Felix’s main objective, right next to concentrating in his lectures—which is easier said than done when red hair and sunny grins decide to make an appearance every time his professor goes on a tangent.

But it’s not as if he thinks about him all the time, because that would be weird, and Felix is  _ not _ weird (“Debatable,” says the Annette that lives in his head, who he’s this close to evicting). It’s just, Sylvain is… nice. Well, most of the time, at least. He makes awful jokes that Felix chastises more than laughs at, and they’ve had at least two arguments about who should’ve won Fodlan’s Baking Championship (Felix still maintains that Dedue made better stew even though Sylvain swears up and down Ashe’s looked like it had more carrots and onions, whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean).

But even their petty bantering doesn’t change the fact that Sylvain is a genuine guy under the mask he puts on for the cafe’s patrons. He always asks Felix about his day, and he lets him be moody without telling him to “lighten up” or any of the other pseudo positive bullshit others put him through. He’s even offered to take him to lunch a couple of times (which he swears was completely platonic,  _ please don’t take it the wrong way, Felix _ ) and has been understanding every time Felix has rejected him. 

Felix does feel comfortable letting him cross the barrier between stranger and friend at this point, which is how he knows things are progressing smoothly.

But every relationship that starts uphill does eventually reach a plateau at some point.

And Sylvain’s plateau is turning out to be… weird.

Maybe it’s because finals are fast approaching and he’s gotten busy. Or maybe his life just suddenly took an unexpected turn, and Felix hasn’t accumulated enough points to reach the next support conversation with him to figure out why (wow, he has got to stop talking to Bernadetta about RPGs if that’s the comparison he came up with). Either way, they suddenly go from talking every single day, to every other day, to only once or twice a week.

Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem. Felix knows most plateaus work themselves out. And if they don’t and he doesn’t maintain the friendship, then he doesn’t let it bother him. He can just let the other person go, let them become another memory in his life, and move on. No use getting attached to something that wasn’t meant to be, and all that.

But this is the first time that it actually does bother him. And it’s not because his relationship with Sylvain is the first one he’s been excited about in a long time (although he can’t deny that is part of the reason). No, the real issue is the things Sylvain says on the occasions they do talk are starting to become jarring and out of place, like he’s suddenly forgotten how to communicate with another human. Felix gets the distinct, albeit inexplicable, feeling that Sylvain is trying to get to know him better, but is just horribly inept at it. Or… something like that, he hopes.

Just the other day, Felix had told him he was going to the gym. A regular, normal person response would have been: "that sounds great, I'll talk to you later." Sylvain’s response was to ask if Felix would ever consider taking a fencing class.

Fencing. 

…Fencing?

That’s something that’s never, ever breached the topics they’ve talked about previously. Hell, the thought has never even crossed Felix’s subconscious in the 21 years he's been alive, and he'd hazard a guess that not many others think about it either, much less Sylvain himself considering he’s never brought up sports in any capacity.

It was a bizarre interaction, but Sylvain wasn’t exactly the most normal of people, so Felix had chalked it up to just another odd quirk of his.

Then, two days later, Sylvain had decided to turn the dial up from ‘bizarre’ to ‘completely insane.’ 

He’d asked about Felix’s family life, which he supposed was inevitable. That conversation went smoothly at the beginning, then completely and unexpectedly crashed and burned at the end when he brought up his brother.

Felix thinks long and hard about the conversations he’s had throughout his life that involve Glenn in some way. He can separate them into two categories—one of them being how much of a bastard he was, the other being a fond childhood memory only shared when Felix felt especially soft and nostalgic (which was probably about one percent of the time). By all means, Sylvain’s inquiry should have led him to put his answer into one of those two categories.

Except it didn’t. Because Sylvain’s question was about whether Glenn was deceased or not.

And Felix had spent that entire hour after grappling with the utter confusion he’d been hit with, with Sylvain apologizing ceaselessly. He’d claimed he’d known another Glenn, that he’d just got the two confused, and  _ I’m so sorry Felix it’s been a long day and I’m exhausted, just forget I said anything. _

And Felix would love to have forgotten. It would’ve been so easy to just put the whole thing behind him and go back to how things were. Even if they still were a bit strange and turbulent, he could’ve handled it.

And then came the final straw.

Felix had walked in on a slightly chilly Tuesday morning, dreading a test he’d barely studied for. His plan to saunter up to the counter and complain to Sylvain about his incompetent professor was blown completely out of the water when he saw her.

Thick, bubblegum pink hair, with candy eyes and strawberry lip gloss to match. Everything about her screamed cute and girly. It did not scream Sylvain.

“Oh, you’re Felix right?” she’d asked as he approached the counter to order.

At his confused nod, she pumped a fist in the air and gave a short victory shout. “I totally guessed it! You look exactly like he described you.”

He? He as in-

“Sylvain?”

She nodded and flipped a long ponytail behind her back as she punched his order in. “Yup,” she responded, popping the ‘p.’ “He told me to tell you that he had to change to closing shift. Didn’t say why though, but I didn’t ask either.”

Maybe it might be an exaggeration to say that Felix felt time freeze. It might also be a bit unrealistic to say that Felix felt something in him shatter. Because he’s well aware that this kind of stuff only happens in fanfiction, when the character’s maybe or maybe not love interest suddenly starts avoiding them and the main character finds themselves devastated, crushed, or whatever other phrases the author has in mind at the news. 

And even if his life still continues to be dictated by these types of tropes the more this story continues, at the very least, he still has some control over his own emotions.

So, no, none of that did actually happen. But the ache in his heart he felt upon hearing the words leave her mouth was pretty damn close to what he imagined the main character in those scenarios felt like.

“Aww, don’t be sad Fefe!” she’d cooed, earning her a Felix-certified death glare. “If it makes you feel any better, he looked pretty torn up about it too.”

_ Bullshit _ , Felix had thought upon storming out of the cafe. If he was so torn about it, why was he doing this then?

And the worst part was, if this really is still going to continue down the path of every cliche story ever, this would be around the part where Sylvain would cut him off completely. On top of already reducing his communication, he’d gone the extra mile to avoid Felix by switching shifts and leaving someone else to tell him about it, so it was only logical that things would only go downhill from here. The next step after cutting Felix off completely was leaving him to wonder just what happened. Then, Felix would be left in a state of disarray for the next few weeks—or heaven forbid the next few months—wondering if there was any way to salvage what they had previously.

Fuck that.

Fuck all of that nonsense.

Felix is not some stereotypical character that just submits to whatever stupid tropes the author decides to put in. He’s a real living being with real emotions and real decision making skills. He doesn’t need to follow some hackneyed plot riddled with enough angst to fill an ocean. 

Maybe there were other people out there who ate that shit up. Maybe there were others who would’ve loved to see him suffer, would’ve loved to see the slow burn and be as sad about his life as he could’ve been.

But Felix Hugo Fraldarius has never given others the time of day, and he’s not about to start now. He lives for himself and his satisfaction.

Which is precisely why he’s currently fishing his phone out of his pocket, why he’s fumbling with unlocking his screen as his nerves begin to catch up with him, his heart racing as he nearly misses tapping on Sylvain’s contact several times.

He’s not going to let Sylvain slip away from him. He’s not going to let him become just another memory, another bitter “what if.”

A month ago, Felix was a simple man with simple needs. A month ago, Felix’s routine consisted of four things: get a coffee, go to class, work out, go home. It was straightforward, it entailed no unnecessary distractions, and… 

And it was completely unsatisfying.

And meeting Sylvain—someone who spiced up his strenuous days with awful jokes and completely pointless banter—had made all the difference. He’d broken into his comfort zone and nestled himself cozy right into Felix’s life, asking for absolutely nothing in return. Sylvain was completely unexpected, and Felix couldn’t be more grateful for the wake up call. 

He needs him. He needs him like he’s never needed anyone before.

“Felix?”

Hearing his voice feels like a breath of fresh air. It’s like early morning fog lifting from the roads, like a storm finally subsiding.

“We need to talk.”

+++

The cafe at dusk is an entirely different world compared to dawn.

The vibrant, sherbet hues of the setting sun make for the perfect backdrop to what Felix imagines the ideal date to be like—and what he wouldn’t give for his stomach to be churning because he was actually going on a date, instead of what was actually about to transpire. 

The normal morning commotion isn’t present, and the silence feels like a blessing from heaven itself. It’s unfortunate that the miasma being produced from his ever increasing anxiety is tainting the almost perfect atmosphere too, because he would’ve liked a little bit of respite from his thoughts before facing Sylvain.

But it’s far too late to turn back now.

There’s a slight chill in the air as he steps through the doors, the wind ruffling his hair like a fond parent might do to their child. The bell chimes, and Sylvain looks up from cleaning the counter to greet Felix. The smile he gives him is tired, and Felix looks for the usual fond glint in his eyes and finds it isn’t there. Sylvain’s entire demeanor reminds him of a machine running low on electricity, as if one more burst of energy might fry it completely. No matter how hard he tries to hide behind a smile, Felix knows a dying flame when he sees one.

“Feels weird to see you here and not ask for your order.” It’s an attempt to lighten the mood, and Felix isn’t here for it.

“You’ve been hiding something from me.”

Sylvain’s eyes widen briefly, then squint in tired confusion. “Felix, I really don’t know what this is about.”

But Felix isn’t going to let him get away with feigning ignorance. Not this time. “You’ve been saying weird things over the past few weeks now, and I don’t understand why. You even asked if my brother was dead. Normal people don’t just ask stuff like that, Sylvain.”

Sylvain gives a tired sigh. He’s edging closer and closer to falling apart at the seams any minute now. “Felix, I already told you-”

“And,” Felix presses on, unrelenting. “You knew my name before I even told you.”

“And,” Sylvain repeats in the same tone Felix had just used, “I said I saw it on your card, remember?”

Felix wishes he could still believe that, he really does. But if there’s one benefit in an ocean of downsides to being born in a body that’s never quite felt like your own, it’s the fact that you have the power to change things you don’t like to help ease the pain of existence.

Including your name.

“The card I used that day isn’t the same one I use now, Sylvain. I didn’t realize it until recently, but I knew there was something weird about you knowing my name just from my card. Now I know what it is.”

There’s a noticeable crack that splits Sylvain’s composure.

“H-hey, c’mon Felix, don’t fuck with me now. What do you mean it’s not the same?” His hands are trembling. It hurts to watch.

With his anxiety swelling like a crescendo to a musical piece, Felix delivers the final nail in the coffin and puts him out of his misery.

“The card I used that day still had my dead name on it. I got a new one the very next week.”

Contrary to what an outsider might believe if they’d been looking into the cafe, Felix doesn’t like accusing Sylvain of being a bad person. It sits in his stomach like a rotten piece of fruit, making him feel absolutely nauseous. But surely there has to be some explanation to this that isn’t whatever terrible, paranoia-born thing his mind is conjuring up. Sylvain can’t possibly be a stalker, or something worse. He’s been so considerate during the short time they’ve known each other. And Felix—even now with everything unfolding, even with the evidence stacking up— _ still _ feels that insoluble feeling of trust harbored deep within him.

Sylvain isn’t a bad person. He can’t be.

Sylvain stares holes into the ground, conflict etched deep in his features. It’s so unnerving that it makes Felix feel like he’s holding him at gunpoint. He might as well be, with how pained his expression is becoming with each passing second.

After an excruciating amount of time watching Sylvain’s face cycle through a myriad of emotions, the tension permeating the air finally lifts ever so slightly as the other begins to look up slowly. He’s settled on a tired smile, one that reminds Felix of when the villain gets backed into a corner on one of those cheesy crime shows his father enjoys. 

He wishes it was just a show. If they were just actors, if they were able to break character, Felix could handle this a whole lot better than he is now.

“All these years later, you really are still the same,” is what he whispers with an odd fondness, shaking his head and giving a long sigh filled with more exhaustion than Felix has ever seen one human being hold. 

“What are you talking about?”

Sylvain closes his eyes, sucks in a deep breath, then exhales out, slow and steady. The calm on his face is in direct contrast with the anxiety that looms in the atmosphere. There’s a certain… finality to it all. Like whatever he’s about to say is a life or death matter. Like he knows Felix might take it very poorly if he screws up.

“Felix, I’m… I’m going to ask you something. Please know that I’m being completely serious when I ask you this. I’m not trying to make you upset, or trick you, okay?”

Felix’s heart kicks into overdrive. He’s never felt the urge to run so intensely in his life, but he can’t now, not when something big is about to happen. “Seriously Sylvain, what are you talking about?”

“Firstly,” Sylvain says, completely brushing aside Felix’s question. “Do the phrases ‘Saint Seiros’ and ‘Holy Kingdom of Faerghus’ mean anything at all to you?”

_ Of course they don’t,  _ Felix wants to spit.  _ What hell are you talking about? _

But the words don’t leave his mouth. They don’t even reach the tip of his tongue. Instead, he’s blindsided by an excruciating headache, one that leaves him reeling and struggling to keep his balance as several of his senses are assaulted at once.

His ears ring far too loudly as his body goes numb, and amidst the awful noise, he hears a faint cacophony of voices—laughter, yelling, everything in between. His vision swims, and several shadowy figures appear in front of him. The figures are mostly anomalous and blob like, but one of them in particular stands out the most. It has blond hair, blue eyes, and a kind smile.

It’s… familiar. Why is it so familiar?

The smile quickly twists and contorts into an angry snarl, and the hair grows long and unruly while one of the eyes is replaced with a dark, infinite void.

Seeing the figure fills him with an unfathomable sadness, one that he’s never felt in his life—and yet understands all too well.

And throughout all of this, throughout Felix’s existential whatever the hell this is, Sylvain retains the same expression of calm melancholy he’s had. It’s almost as if he knew it was going to happen. Like he’d somehow anticipated Felix’s reaction.

But that can’t be right… right?

“Sylvain, what the hell is going on?” Felix has never heard his own voice sound so tiny in his entire life.

It’s jarring enough to see hallucinations (they  _ are _ hallucinations, right?) that have no rhyme or reason to them. It’s even more jarring when Felix blinks and Sylvain is suddenly in a suit of armor, like something a knight might wear in kingdom. He blinks again, and the cafe is gone, replaced by a decrepit wall of dirt and stone. The sleek, metal tables are now made of splintered wood, and the space by the front door now hangs a royal blue banner with an embroidered design Felix doesn’t recognize—but feels like he should. He blinks again, and again, and again-

He’s outside by a giant pond, he’s in a room with a bed and a plush blue carpet, he’s in a greenhouse filled to the top with exotic plants-

“Felix, do you believe in reincarnation?”

He blinks again, and he’s back in the cafe. Sylvain is wearing a black wool beanie, he’s dressed in jeans with holes in the knees, his auburn hoodie that is decidedly not made of silver peeking from behind his apron. His eyes hold an unrecognizable emotion, his demeanor is that of a still lake, far too calm for the question he’s just posed to Felix.

A question Felix finds himself thinking long and hard about.

Felix isn’t a religious person. His faith had been shaken when his mother had gotten sick, and he’d given up on gods and spirituality entirely after she’d passed. Any talk of her moving onto another realm— that maybe she was still out there somehow in some way—had only pissed him off and pushed him further away. The dead were dead as far as he was concerned. Heaven, ghosts, and second chances were for suckers looking to get scammed into obeying arbitrary rules so there was a sliver of a chance they could live on in some way.

But was that really correct?

Felix doesn’t know. He doesn’t know why the visions conjured by his mind feel so harrowingly  _ real.  _ He doesn’t know why he feels like he should know any of the locations he’s just seen. He doesn’t know why the armor Sylvain was just wearing is so fitting, as if he’s worn it for as long as he’s known him.

Or maybe…

Maybe he does know.

Maybe, there’s a small part of his mind kicking and screaming at him, telling him to  _ wake up. Wake up, already. You’re so close. Just wake up, wake up, wake up- _

“Sylvain, whatever it is you’re suggesting,” Felix breathes out, heart still racing, body still shaking. “I want you to tell me everything you know. Don’t hold anything back. I need to know if what’s happening… is actually happening.”

Sylvain’s legs are so long it only takes him two strides before he reaches Felix. The hand he gently places on his shoulder feels entirely too heavy, and yet he feels as if he’s going to need it to center him, to brace him for whatever Sylvain is about to say.

The air is far too stagnant. It’s suffocating.

“Your name was Felix Hugo Fraldarius,” Sylvain begins, and Felix feels his stare pierce directly into his soul. “And this is the second life you’ve lived. Your first one began in the 11th century.  _ Our  _ first one began in the 11th century.”

Sylvain pauses and looks at Felix expectantly, probably gauging how Felix is taking in this tidbit of information.

Felix… is taking it poorly. But really, how could he not be? Could any sane person take the information Sylvain has just told him and just accept it, like it was just a simple change in the weather? How could anyone think rationally when everything they’ve known about how the world works was just taken and demolished in one sentence?

A second life? Him? And Sylvain too? The 11th century? Was that medieval times? That was definitely medieval times. But how far back in medieval times? Were they still using feathers and ink to write? What about-

“Felix? Should I stop?”

His frenzied thoughts are scattered by the low tone of Sylvain’s voice, and he gives a quick shake of his head.

“Whatever you know, I want to know too. I… I trust you.”

Sylvain’s mouth quirks up slightly, and he nods back. “That’s good. I’ll keep going then.” A beat of silence, then, “We lived in a country called Faerghus, which had a king. You and I were born into noble families that served that king. We both grew up with and went to school with the king’s son, as well as other people from Faerghus. Are you still with me?”

Felix swallows and gives a shaky nod. The same blond person he’d seen previously blinks into existence by Sylvain’s side for a brief second, then disappears.

“The school we went to, called Garreg Mach, was a place where we ate, slept, and trained for battle. There were little conflicts here and there, but it was mostly peaceful. But then a princess from another country declared war on the person who oversaw the entire continent, and that’s when it got really serious.”

For some reason, Felix finds himself nodding along. “And we all went to war against her.” He’s almost baffled at the confidence he puts into the sentence, but it feels right. He knows he’s right.

Sylvain nods back, excitement coloring his features. “Yeah, yeah that’s right, Felix. We fought for five years, and we won. And after we won, I…”

Sylvain looks away for a moment, conflict plastered on his features. The importance of what he’s about to say is lost on Felix, but he knows it must be something big if he’s been silent for this long. Even when Sylvain had told him about the tumultuous relationship with his older brother, it still didn’t carry this much uncertainty. 

It isn’t much longer before whatever internal battle he’s fighting is over, and he steels himself, then turns back to face Felix.

“After we won, I told you I loved you.”

Felix feels himself stiffen, his heart skipping a beat. Under completely normal circumstances, Felix would be celebrating Sylvain’s admission. This was how any normal fanfiction was supposed to end, after all. The main character gets the confession they’ve been waiting for, and the pair kiss. He’s been waiting for this ending since the beginning.

But this isn’t a cliche work of fiction. It almost was, though. Felix had followed every plot point to a T right until the end, right until he’d made the decision to ignore the author’s writing and take matters into his own hands.

So it’s not cliche, which means the ending isn’t in sight yet. He still needs to find out everything.

“And… and what happened after that?”

Sylvain casts his gaze down, his frown becoming more pronounced. Felix wants to say that he sees a hint of guilt, but tries not to jump to conclusions. “We got married not long after that. Our marriage lasted for about a year afterwards, and it was the happiest year of my life, Fe.”

He says it was happy, but his red rimmed, glossy eyes say different. Something awful is on the horizon.

“But I fucked up, Felix. I fucked up so bad.”

“What do you mean?” Felix fires back immediately, trying to push the anxiety in his voice to the back of his throat.

Sylvain takes a shaky breath, and sniffs. It hardly takes a moment before crystalline pools line the bottom of his eyelids. “On our anniversary, I took you somewhere that we could be alone. It was one of your favorite things, y'know? Just being outdoors with nothing to distract you. I thought it would make you happy.”

Sylvain’s right. Even in this life, it’s one of his favorite things. But something tells him what Sylvain is about to say isn’t going to be the happy ending he was anticipating. If the tears streaming down his face are anything to go by, Felix is about to hear something he doesn’t want to… but needs to.

“And along the way,” he continues, choking up on the last word, “we were attacked. A group of bandits and their monsters. We ended up taking them down, but you…”

Felix’s heart cracks when Sylvain brings a hand up to his face and wipes at his eyes. It shatters completely when he tries to speak and all that comes out is a choked sob.

Felix decides to finish the sentence for him. “I didn’t make it.”

It’s evident that he’s hit the nail on the head by the way Sylvain nods, still rubbing at his eyes, breath coming out in soft gasps. “And I spent so goddamn long wishing and praying that  _ somehow _ you could come back, because I loved you so much. Fuck, I still do. Do you understand what it did to me, seeing you in line that day? You’d finally come back to me, and you didn’t even remember.”

It’s painful, hearing Sylvain spill his feelings out like this. It’s painful, not knowing how long he’d spent waiting for Felix to come back,  _ if  _ he even would come back at all. Just how many years had he spent looking into various crowds hoping to catch a glimpse of dark hair and brown eyes? How many times after Felix left each morning did he spend trying to reconcile his grief?

How was he able to maintain his composure throughout his whole life when he was stuck hurtling through the modern world while the previous one still beckoned to him?

“The worst part of it all, Felix, is I never even got to apologize for breaking our promise before you died. I know you don’t know what that means, but…”

He exhales a bitter laugh. It stings in a way Felix has yet to know the true impact of. If only he could just _ remember _ , he’d know.

_ C’mon Fe, it’s time now. You have to wake up. _

“I’m sorry, Felix. This just sounds insane, doesn’t it? It’s just, I’ve tried so many times to get you to remember and nothing has worked. I kinda thought talking about our promise might work, but looks like I’m just making an ass of myself at this point, huh?”

_ Let’s promise to die together on the same day, okay? _

_ I promise to protect and cherish you, for as long as we both shall live. _

_ Wherever you go, wait for me, okay? I promise I’ll make it up to you. _

It’s Sylvain’s voice, he realizes. It’s Sylvain’s voice that’s been begging him to remember, and it’s his voice that tells him every promise he’d made to him, from childhood until his last breath. 

It’s Sylvain’s voice that summons another headache, accompanied by a myriad of visions.

No, not visions. Memories.  _ His _ memories.

He sees two blond children alongside Sylvain as a child. He knows their names. They’re Ingrid Galatea and Dimitri Blaiddyd, and they were his childhood friends. They were people he’d gone to school and to battle with. He knows them like he knows the back of his hand.

He sees his brother, Glenn, but not the Glenn that exists now. The Glenn of that life died when Felix was thirteen, along with the king and queen, Dimitri’s parents. And Glenn isn’t the only one who followed him and Sylvain to this life either. Annette and Bernadetta are there, too, using magic and firing arrows in the heat of war. They were there… and they likely don’t know it.

The memories quickly shift to a brick and mortar building, the same one the cafe had briefly looked like before. It’s Garreg Mach, Felix realizes. Then there’s Gronder Field, and the Bridge of Myrddin, and Fhirdiad, and-

_ And everything. _

Felix remembers  _ everything _ .

The memories strike him like a lightning bolt, shaking him to his very core, resonating in his soul so harshly he collapses right then and there. Or, he would’ve had it not been for Sylvain’s steadying hands that prevent him from falling over completely.

“Fe? Can you hear me, Felix?”

Sylvain sounds far away and muffled. Felix squeezes his eyes shut and is greeted with one last memory: Sylvain standing in front of him, dressed in turquoise and white robes, a gentle smile affixed to his face. Out of the corner of his eye a flash of silver catches his attention, and his head swivels to meet the gaze of a person—Dimitri, he knows now—holding two silver rings on an embroidered pillow.

Felix’s eyes slowly slide open. He doesn’t stop the smile that overtakes his face.

“You know, you lied about one thing,” he says, reaching his hand to cup Sylvain’s cheek, thumb running across his smooth skin. “You said my last name was Fraldarius, but I seem to remember it being Gautier. That’s what we agreed to when we got married.”

Felix thinks back to when Annette showed him the picture with Sylvain and his horse. Sylvain’s smile had been nothing short of radiant. He thinks back to the smile he was shown every single day when walking into the cafe, when their relationship was being built upon simple, quiet conversations. It seems like so long ago that he was shown an expression so full of pure, unbridled joy.

It feels really good to see it unfolding before him right now.

This smile starts out slow, clumsily making its way to his face as Felix’s statement settles into his thoughts. But once it’s there, it’s a clear spring day, when the thick, gray winter clouds finally part to make way for the warm, bright sun.

It’s the same one he saw on their wedding day, an entire lifetime ago. It’s one he hopes he can see more in this life, and maybe even the next. Because he’s in love with it; he’s in love with him. He loves this Sylvain, and the last Sylvain, and any of them there could’ve been before that.

He loves him in every life he’s had, and every life after.

“Fe… Oh Felix, you’re finally awake, love,” Sylvain chokes out, cradling him close and bringing Felix in for an embrace they’ve both been yearning for an entire lifetime.

And maybe it’s the familiar smell of coffee that clings to Sylvain’s clothes, and maybe it’s the sunset coloring the windows a soft cotton candy pink, and maybe it’s his heart swelling past the point of bursting that overwhelms Felix, fills him with enough happiness to last two lifetimes over.

It’s then, in the middle of his euphoria, that he remembers something very important.

“Sylvain,” he whispers, willing his voice not to falter. “No matter what, I’m not mad at you for what happened, okay? I love you.”

He feels Sylvain stiffen. 

“I… I love you too, Felix.” It sounds unsure, as if he’s questioning whether he actually deserves it.

But Felix won’t allow him any more doubt. Sylvain’s guilt has plagued him for far too long, and it’s high time Felix imparts onto him the happy ending that comes with these types of (almost) completely cliche stories.

Felix pulls away and stares at him with what he hopes is enough conviction to convey his feelings properly. “Sylvain, I’m serious. You always blame yourself for things out of your control, but I won’t have it this time. In this life, we’re going to work through all the shit we didn’t get a chance to, and we’re going to do it together.”

Sylvain stares back for a moment, and Felix sees hope reflected in his warm, brown eyes. Hope for a second chance, hope that he can hold onto Felix for the rest of his days this time around. He has an entire lifetime of missed kisses and sweet embraces to make up for, and right now is the perfect time to get started on making up for lost time.

And so he does.

He leans in and kisses Felix briefly, before pulling back, the corners of his mouth quirking into a smile. “Is that our new promise?”

Felix smiles back. “I suppose you could say it is.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they didnt die this time!! yeah babey!!
> 
> welp thats all from me from the sylvix side of things. but what abt any of the other characters like annie and bernie and hilda? do they get feel good stories too? the answer is yes but also im slow and burnt out so like idk when thats happening lol. eventually!!
> 
> anyway thx for reading lads, lov you guys
> 
> Twitter: peachh_boy  
> Tumblr: peachh-boy
> 
> comments and kudos are always appreciated :>

**Author's Note:**

> chappy 2 coming..... sometime soon lol. whenever my job gets itself sorted out. thx for reading lads lasses and gender neutral gentleman
> 
> twitter: peachh_boy  
> tumblr: peachh-boy
> 
> comments and kudos are always appreciated :>


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